


and if to live

by JadenGrace1



Series: for the heart to conquer [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Coran (mentioned) - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Scars, allura (mentioned) - Freeform, mentions of near-death experiences, shiro (mentioned) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 06:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16035059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadenGrace1/pseuds/JadenGrace1
Summary: Breathe in, breathe out. Like ripping off a band-aid. Lance hugs his knees tighter, forces himself to look Keith in the eye when he asks, “How many times have you almost died?”~Set after Keith joins the Blades but before Naxzela.





	and if to live

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the "Crying into Chest" square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo card.
> 
> Dedicated to Brittany, since it's her birthday and she requested this prompt with klance. So, Happy Birthday! Have some angst lol.
> 
> Edit: Thank you guys so much for over 100 kudos!!

They’re all gathered around Keith’s pod, eagerly awaiting the few ticks left until the former red/black paladin is due to be released. Hunk and Pidge are front and center, arguing over the merits of putting some kind of tracker into Keith’s Marmora suit, while Shiro stands directly behind them, eyes flicking between the pod and the two paladins in front of him.

Allura hovers to the right of the group, chatting with the mice perched on her shoulders and occasionally interjecting into Hunk and Pidge’s conversation. Like an anxious hummingbird, Coran flits about the room, checking diagnostics on the pod from various angles before heading to the middle of the room to check multiple tablets and then heading back to the pod and repeating the process.

Lance stands off to the left, slightly hunched with arms crossed and hands tucked into his armpits. Usually he’d be right in the middle with Hunk and Pidge, loudly and boisterously announcing how _of course_ their samurai was taking so long to get out of the pod, he _obviously_ needed his beauty rest if he ever wanted to be _nearly_ as beautiful as Lance — his usual shenanigans of distracting the team from the morbid fact that one of their own almost died in a crazy space war none of them had ever signed up for.

This time, however, he just can’t seem to muster the energy. He knows he’s been in a weird mood since… well, _since_.

The moment after he and Coran had gotten Keith into the pod and he’d realized that Keith was _actually_ going to make it, he’d pretty much shut down for a few hours after that. While Coran had gone to notify the others of the situation, Lance’d gone to his room, mechanically showered, half-heartedly done a skincare routine, and had eventually found himself sitting alone in one of the observation rooms.

As he’d stared blankly ahead, he couldn’t help but ruminate over what he’d seen. More specifically, the scars that he’d seen littering Keith’s small frame. A lot of them he’d recognized from Keith’s previous times in a pod (like one on his left bicep that he’d gotten fighting a sentry that had tried to sneak up behind Lance) and from stories shared during late nights (like the one he had on the side of his foot from a time he’d been wading in an icy stream and accidentally cut his foot on a sharp rock).

But there were some that were new. A lot, actually. And while normally the fact that Keith had so _many_ new scars would be enough to send Lance’s anxiety levels skyrocketing, that wasn’t what had him sitting alone in the dark at the castle equivalent of three in the morning. No, what had Lance like this were three very specific, very _alarming_ scars. Scars that pulled at something deep in his gut. Scars that left him reeling.

The first one he’d seen almost instantly after unzipping the back of Keith’s Marmora suit. It was a burn scar, similar to the one Lance had on his own back. Though while Lance’s was barely visible, just patches of skin where the color was off, Keith’s was like a smack to the face. First off, it was _huge_ , covering most of his back in large patches, the gnarled white skin covering an already pale landscape. It reminded Lance of the topographical maps they had studied at the Garrison, with ridges and planes, dips and valleys — a study in agony.

He’d caught wind of the second one with the same initial glance, a round knot of puckered pink about the size of a quarter located on Keith’s upper back, over his left shoulder. As he’d laid Keith back and pulled the suit down his front and off of his arms, he’d seen the matching scar right underneath Keith’s collarbone. Dangerously, _obscenely_ close to where Keith’s heart was.

And finally, he’d noticed the last one as he’d shimmied the suit down and around Keith’s narrow hips, quickly covering Keith’s lower half with a towel before continuing to peel the suit off of the rest of his body. The last scar was a raised pink rope that started just under and to the right of Keith’s navel and wrapped itself around Keith’s right hip, nearly the size of a dime in width.

For a moment Lance had thought he was going to throw up right then and there. But he hadn’t, just shoved everything down and away so he could focus on getting Keith in a medsuit and then into a pod.

Lance is brought back to the present by the sudden series of beeps emitting from Keith’s pod. He watches as the team squishes themselves as close to the glass as possible while still leaving enough room for Keith to fall out. And fall out he does, into the awaiting arms of Hunk who immediately scoops him into a fierce hug, babbling about how good it was to see him, how scared he was, how Keith needs to visit more, especially when he’s not like, dying or whatever. Keith’s arms slowly come up as far as they can with the way Hunk has them trapped against his side.

If Pidge says anything, Lance can’t hear it since all he can see is her wrapping her hands around his waist from behind and burying her face in his back. After a few moments, they both let go, and Lance finally gets a look at Keith’s face. He can see a light blush across pale cheeks, most likely from the embarrassment of being the center of attention. Allura comes up next with a quick hug and reassurances that she’s glad he’s okay, and Shiro is right behind her with a comforting hand on Keith’s shoulder.

He watches as Keith’s eyes look around until they finally land on his own, and that’s when Lance moves, striding forward and wrapping Keith tightly in his arms. Breathe in, breathe out. He counts to three before sighing and letting go, holding Keith out gently in front of him.

“Let’s get you something to eat, yeah?" he says. "You’re probably starving.”

“Oh, yeah!” Hunk interrupts enthusiastically. “Dude, you’ve gotta try this new food goo recipe I was able to cook up.” The yellow paladin wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulders and begins to lead him off towards the kitchen.

“Yeah!” interjects Pidge, bringing herself up on Keith’s other side. “He was somehow able to make green goo _actually taste good_.”

Keith manages to glance over his shoulder back at Lance, before quietly replying, “Sure, guys. Sounds great.”

The team all trails out behind the trio, and while everyone else turns to head for the kitchen, Lance doesn’t. The thought of eating anything right now, even Hunk’s delicious goo, makes him nauseous. Because while Keith is looking and acting like he’s fine, Lance knows that he’s not. He _knows_. Also, Lance doesn’t want to hurt Hunk’s feelings by not eating the goo.

So, instead, he turns the other way and begins wandering the halls, no particular destination in mind. He eventually finds himself in the same observation room as last night, and an indeterminable time later, Lance hears footsteps behind him.

He twists his body in his seated position to see who’s there and finds Keith, dressed in his signature black t-shirt and what appears to be a pair of red pajama pants. The dark-haired boy is leaning against the doorway, arms folded and a single finger tapping anxiously on his bicep.

“Mind if I join you?” he ventures quietly, eyes glancing up to Lance’s before darting away.

He pauses just a moment, to see if Keith will look at him for more than a second. Keith’s eyes don’t drift from the dark corner he’s intently staring at.

Something tightens in his chest, but he merely sighs and puts on what he hopes is a comforting smile. “‘Course not, Keith.” He pats the space next to him on his left. “C’mon.”

Lance turns his attention back to the stars and listens as Keith quietly plods over to sit, settling a good three feet away. They sit like that for a long time, just watching the stars as they drift past the observatory window. They’ve had moments like this before — just the two of them, content in the silence of each other’s company.

This isn’t like those other times, though. At least, not for Lance. No, there’s a tension beneath his skin that was never there before. He can feel it like an itch he can’t scratch, a scab he can’t quite reach. Something on him, or in him — something creeping, burning cold and yawning like the black void of space and— Lance breathes in, breathes out. Does it again. Rinse and repeat.

He knows what the feeling is, has spent enough time between yesterday and now shoving it down and away. It’s fear, plain and simple. He’s just been doing everything that he can to avoid acknowledging it. Because acknowledgment means vulnerability, and he’s never liked to be vulnerable when he can avoid it. And he’s gotten oh so good at avoiding it.

But as he glances over to Keith, he’s reminded of how that’s started to become less true — of how the person sitting next to him has somehow wiggled past barriers and gotten to see parts of himself that even _he_ doesn’t like to look too hard at. And how he’s done some wiggling of his own, past steel walls and grumpy facades to find the soft, squishy boy underneath.

The same boy he found almost dead, floating all alone in empty space, surrounded by nothing but debris.

And _that_ is the root of it all — the fact that they almost lost Keith yesterday. Would have, if Red hadn’t intervened. And that judging by the scars he’d seen, it wasn’t the first time he’d almost slipped away.

Lance doesn’t want to deal with that actuality. In fact, he would very much prefer to ignore it altogether, pretend that everything is and always has been okay — that everything _will_ be okay. Hell, it’s all he’s been trying to do since yesterday, just avoiding the problem and trying to convince himself that there isn’t anything that he needs to deal with. But he also knows that if he _doesn’t_ deal with it… well. Next time he might not be _almost_ too late.

His jeans rustle quietly as he pulls his knees up and hugs them to his chest. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Hey, Keith?” he ventures quietly.

The dark-haired boy doesn’t move from his relaxed position; hands splayed behind him as he leans back and looks up at the view. “Mhm?”

“How… how many times?” Lance bites his lip. He knows it’s too vague, but he hopes that just this once Keith will get what he’s trying to ask anyway, no explanation needed. Because even though Lance understands that he _needs_ to know the answer, he still doesn’t _want_ to know. Wishes he didn’t _have_ to know.

...is so very, very _scared_ to know.

Keith looks over to him now, dark brows furrowed. “How many times what?”

Breathe in, breathe out. _Like ripping off a band-aid._ Lance hugs his knees tighter, forces himself to look Keith in the eye when he asks, “How many times have you almost died?”

For a moment, Lance thinks he sees a flicker of something akin to fear in those dark eyes, but then Keith’s turning away, drawing his legs up and in, a pale mirror of Lance’s hunched position. Two sides of the same coin.

It’s obvious that Keith doesn’t want to talk about it — at least, not at this moment. Normally Lance would let Keith come to him in his own time, just give him his company and his jokes and his stories until Keith was ready. Or, that’s what he did when Keith was still with them on the castle. Before he started spending all his time with the Blades.

The Keith that’s sitting next to him now? Pale and gaunt and looking like he’s doing everything he can to curl into himself until he winks out of existence? Lance doesn’t know what to do with this Keith. And _that_ scares him, too — the idea that maybe he’s losing Keith in more ways than one, that they’re all letting him slip through shaky fingers with empty words and emptier eyes and—

No. _No_. His fingers tighten where they’ve tangled in the folds of his jeans. He can’t risk waiting, he _can’t_ — not when there’s something deep and primal inside telling him that if he doesn’t dig _now_ … The pool of dread in his stomach churns uncomfortably.

“Since going with the Blades, how many times?” He’s almost pleading now.

There’s a tick in Keith’s jaw, and Lance notices his grip has gone white-knuckled. “This is a war, Lance—”

“That’s not what I asked,” he snaps hotly, fear sparking into frustration. “That’s not what I asked, and you know it.”

Keith flinches, and like he’s been doused with a bucket of water, Lance feels the fire inside sputter out.

Cursing quietly under his breath, he turns his attention back to the large viewing window. A heavy sigh drags out him, long and slow. He swallows, keeps his eyes on the stars.

“I saw the scars, okay?” It comes out barely more than a whisper, and Lance clears his throat. “When we put you in the pod suit, I saw them, and— I just...”

Keith’s voice is so quiet Lance barely hears it. “Why does it matter?”

Lance’s head whips around so fast he swears he hears something crack and stares at Keith incredulously. “Why does it _matter_? Keith, c’mon, you can’t be serious.”

Keith, impossibly, curls into himself even further, putting his head to his knees and wrapping his arms around himself like a protective shield.

Lance feels numb.

“Keith… Keith, look at me.” Keith doesn’t move, and Lance crawls over to him, hesitantly puts a hand on his shoulder. Keith tenses, but otherwise doesn’t move. “Keith…” Still keeping one hand on his shoulder, Lance takes his other hand and gently starts to pry Keith’s arms from around his face. “Look at me, please.”

“Lance—”

“No,” he interrupts before Keith can continue. “This is _important_.” Reluctantly, Keith lets his arms be moved but keeps his face tucked into his knees. Lance’s heart aches.

“C’mon, let me see your face,” he begs. “ _Please_.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, Keith lifts his head but keeps his eyes straight ahead. The ache in his chest nearly knocks the wind out of him. Glacially, so that Keith can see everything that’s happening, he reaches out and gently curls a finger under his chin, turning his head until they’re practically nose to nose.

“There’s my samurai,” he whispers with a sad smile, and as he looks into red-rimmed eyes, he can feel his expression cracking.

“Why does it matter?” His hand moves up to cup his cheek.“It matters because you matter. You,” his other hand gently pokes Keith’s chest. “ _Keith_. Not Keith, the soldier; not Keith, the Blade member; not Keith, the paladin; none of that. Just… just Keith.” His hand flattens, and he moves it over Keith’s shirt until it’s over his heart. “Keith, the person...” He brushes a finger over where he now knows to be a little knot of scar tissue. “...the friend.”

“Lance…” Keith croaks, and Lance frames the face in front of him with both hands.

“I’m serious. You matter so much, Keith. To the team— to _me_ …” He breathes in, breathes out, shaky. “I was so scared when Red and I got through the wormhole, and you were just… floating there. Not moving.” He swallows thickly, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, and Keith grabs on to Lance’s wrists. A tear rolls down Keith’s cheek, and Lance lightly swipes it away with his thumb. Gently, he brings them together so that their foreheads are touching.

“I thought we were too late,” he whispers, the best he can do without his voice cracking. “That you’d— that your last moments were spent cold and alone and— _fuck_.” He feels a tear drip down his own cheek. “That thought _killed_ me. A-And then we got back to the castle, and I saw the scars, and the realization that there were _multiple_ times I could have lost you hit me like a fucking truck and—”

Suddenly Keith is slipping from his hold and burrowing his head in Lance’s chest, arms wrapping around Lance’s waist and clinging. Instinctively, his arms wrap around Keith, one arm around his back and the other gently cradling his head.

“I can’t lose you, Keith.” He buries his face in Keith’s hair, whispers, “ _Please don’t make me lose you._ ”

They both tighten their holds, and they sit there, broken in ways they never were before, but ready to pick up each other’s pieces.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think, and if you wanna see more, go ahead and check out my bingo card here: http://fandoms-have-taken-over-my-life.tumblr.com/post/178239219837/for-badthingshappenbingo-my-friend  
> (because i still don't know how to link to things in the notes slkjfakj)
> 
> You can send me requests there or leave them in the comments here!


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